


An Evening in Metropolis

by kmfillz



Category: Smallville
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Angst, Extortion, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rape, Sex to Pay off Debt, Smut, Unwilling Arousal, Victim POV, sex against a window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-30 06:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11457720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmfillz/pseuds/kmfillz
Summary: Lionel's requests were never as easy to refuse as they appeared.(An exchange gift written forNonconathon 2017.)





	An Evening in Metropolis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ApexOnHigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApexOnHigh/gifts).



_Lionel Luthor had a way of asking for things that made it sound like he was laughing at you for thinking you could say no. It usually started something like this:_

"Miss Sullivan, do me the favor of accompanying me this evening for a business occasion."

Chloe looked up from the stack of manila folders she was filing to see Lionel Luthor standing above her, holding a garment bag over his arm, lips twisted in that ever-present smirk of his. There was something about Luthors that gave her the creeps. Whatever it was, Lionel had it in spades. He looked smooth and attractive from a distance, but as soon as you got up close, you could see it in his eyes: the shark.

"I think you will find it very interesting."

By Chloe's reckoning, ultra fancy business meeting + "interesting" = a scoop. Maybe a big one—while she was still in high school!—all because she knew the right people. So shark eyes or not, she agreed readily. And she accepted the garment bag too.

"There's a dress code," Lionel told her. "I believe this is your size." He said it with the kind of casual air that is only used for things that aren't casual at all, so she shouldn't have been so surprised when the slinky blue dress inside fit her like a glove. Ridiculously expensive clothing brands weren't really Chloe's area of expertise, but she could tell this simple-looking dress cost more than she could ever hope to earn as a reporter.

She bought shoes to go with it, the only pair Smallville's lone shoe shop carried that seemed to fit the dress. Sapphire-blue high heels, tall enough to scream, "I never do my own walking." When she put the dress and the shoes on and checked herself out in the mirror, she saw a sophisticated woman, not a high school kid. She'd walk into that soirée like a pro, land a source, break a story.

She was supposed to meet Lionel at his LuthorCorp office in Metropolis. Her dad dropped her off at the building, telling her, "Have a good time, sweetie!" The building was nearly deserted, but that was no surprise. Luthors work late. She tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator rose, storey after storey, impatient to begin the adventure. But when she stepped out of the elevator and through the doors to Lionel's office, she got an uneasy feeling. Something wasn't right about this picture.

Lionel was pouring cognac. He looked up when she entered. "Ah, Miss Sullivan! Can I offer you a drink?"

She blinked. "I'm, uh, under the drinking age, Mr. Luthor."

He smiled generously. "Oh, right. I forgot. You wear that dress stunningly, I must say." She beamed, charmed despite herself. He handed her a coke and ice. She took it and sat down on the couch as directed. Confusingly, Lionel showed no signs of intending to leave for the party.

Chloe's spider sense was more than tingling. "I thought this was supposed to be a business occasion?"

"Oh, it is, Miss Sullivan," he said smoothly. "My business is with you."

Chloe looked up at him like a deer into headlights.

"...Regarding the subject of a mutual acquaintance of ours."

She narrowed her eyes. "I have nothing more to say to you about Clark." She didn't get what he wanted from Clark frickin' Kent, of all people, but she did know that whatever it was, she wanted no part in it. Which she'd told Lionel. Repeatedly.

Lionel sighed. "I wonder, what _is_ it about Clark Kent that inspires such devotion in an otherwise levelheaded young woman such as yourself?"

"He's my friend." Maybe he'd heard of the concept?

"Mm. And is that all you want him to be?" Lionel settled down on the couch next to her, casting a penetrating look in her direction.

"Whatever you're insinuating, Clark and I are nothing but friends."

"Well, that's certainly how _he_ sees _you._ "

Chloe smiled, trying not to clench her teeth too obviously. Clark might not feel that way about her, but her personal life was none of Lionel Luthor's business.

Unfortunately, Lionel already had her number. "How frustrating it must be, all that passion and no outlet for it." A long thin hand settled on her left knee. A nervous giggle rose in her throat.

"Um, Mr. Luthor?"

He looked her square in the eye and smiled a smile that implied people who interfered with his plans ended up dead. The hand on her knee was no accident, the smile said. With a sinking feeling, Chloe realized nothing about this evening was an accident. The misleading impression he'd given her, the dress, the private meeting—this was all his plan.

His thumb moved over the inner side of her knee. Her pulse sped up. "If you don't take your hand off my leg, I'll scream."

"Will you?" He leaned forward, sliding his hand further up her thigh, up under the hem of her dress. "Tell me, Miss Sullivan, that you aren't wet with need at this moment." Two long fingers stroked over the thin cotton fabric of her panties. Fabric that immediately became damp. "A need that Clark Kent has never been willing to satisfy." She was going to scream. She swore she was.

"You want this," he continued, in that low, threatening tone, "the same way you want to someday be a reporter for my friends at the Daily Planet. The same way you want your father to keep his job at LuthorCorp. The same way you want our little arrangement this summer to remain a secret."

She stared at him, speechless, face burning, angry at her body for siding with the enemy. His fingers continued to move beneath her skirt.

He raised his eyebrows at her silence. "Oh, was I wrong?"

For a moment, her eyes drifted shut, and she saw her all dreams crumbling into dust. No future career at the Daily Planet. Her father losing his job, his pride. Clark telling her he never wanted to see her again. The hand between her thighs pressed inward, held back only by one layer of underwear. She felt sick. Worse, she felt turned on. Lionel wrapped his other hand around her right knee, forcibly preventing her from closing her legs. She tried in vain to scoot back and put distance between herself and the invasive fingers. The couch seemed to catch her and swallow her motions, leaving her helpless in his hands.

"I could expose you," she blustered, but her voice betrayed her as well, refusing to rise above a squeak.

Lionel chuckled richly. "I admire your spirit. It's a shame that zeal wasn't directed toward a more fruitful endeavor, such as, oh, that report on Clark Kent you owe me." His face abruptly lost its mirth. "You can't get something for nothing, Miss Sullivan. We had an agreement. You failed to deliver your end, knowing there was a price to be paid."

She couldn't help her incredulous laughter. "And this is the price?!"

"This? No, this is an opportunity. Convince me that your loyalty is to me, not to Clark Kent."

In other words, yeah, this was the price, but it wasn't the whole price. She closed her eyes. She couldn't believe she'd been this stupid, making a deal with Lionel Luthor. She'd recognized him for what he was the first time they met. If she hadn't been so angry with Clark and Lana... She took a shaky breath, knowing what she had to say now.

"OK," she whispered to the fingers teasing her cunt.

"What was that?"

"I said, alright," she repeated, louder. "I'll have sex with you."

He pulled back, and furrowed his brow in concern. "Only if that's what you really want, of course." His voice dripped with false solicitude.

She gritted her teeth. _Only if she really wanted to keep her internship, her father's job, and her secret._ She met his gaze. His eyes crinkled, like he was laughing at her.

"No matter what you may think of me, I have no interest in sex with an unenthusiastic partner."

The more naive Chloe of yesteryear might have taken those words at face value. At this point, she'd learned how to read between the lines of Luthor threats. He wasn't just demanding sex, he was requiring her to fake enthusiasm about it.

 _Fine._ "Please—" She choked on the words, and had to start over. "Please fuck me, Mr. Luthor." Her voice was almost steady the second time. She hoped that the crudeness made up for the hesitance. His continued silence unnerved her. She swallowed, took a breath. "I want you to fuck me," she said, loud and clear.

Satisfaction spread across his face like fertilizer over a cornfield. "Then we have something in common. Take off your panties."

She rose shakily to her feet, reaching up under her skirt to pull her panties off, down her smooth-shaven legs. She'd gotten dressed up for _this_. She stepped out of her fallen underwear, stumbling when one heel snagged in the lace band. She awkwardly pulled the scrap of lace free from her shoe and set the panties down on the coffee table in front of Lionel.

He stood and took her wrist in his hand, leading her over to the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over Metropolis. Placing her hand on the glass, then gripped her hips in his elegant hands as he stepped behind her.

She knew what was next. He was already sliding her dress up over her hips. She bit her lip, trying to quash the feeling of being terribly exposed. The windows were one-way glass, she reminded herself.

"Tell me what you see down there, Miss Sullivan." From behind her came the faint sound of a zipper on a suit worth more than her family could ever afford.

She stared blankly down at the plaza below. "People? Cars?" Rush hour was over. The business district was slowly emptying for the night, but there was still traffic and the occasional pedestrians, no more than small, moving dots on the pavement from this height.

Lionel slid his hand over the curve of her buttocks.

"Do you know what I see down there?"

The hand continued downward, between her legs. "I see ambition." He trailed his fingers over her labia. "Eagerness." His hands came away wet.

She shivered, her body responding to him, calling for his touch. She cursed herself under her breath. She wasn't like this. She didn't give it up to some creepy billionaire in his fancy office just because he sounded smooth and made her devil's bargains and... touched her. She wasn't attracted to Lionel Luthor. This wasn't what she wanted. Except a part of her did want it, and he knew that. It _amused_ him.

"I'm eager," she said around the tightness in her throat. Her voice almost sounded even. "I'm ambitious. Fuck me, Lionel. _Please._ "

"My pleasure, Chloe." The smile in his voice was cruel.

She felt the head of his cock bumping between her legs, seeking for the entrance to her vagina. Then it began to push slowly into her. The sensation as he filled her cunt wasn't one she had felt before, not even on those private, lonely occasions when she'd lay in bed, thinking about Clark's eyelashes, and his large hands, and his lips, and how he'd take her virginity someday in his barn, on a starlit summer night.

She braced herself against the window as Lionel buried his length all the way inside her. Her fantasies seemed so pathetic now. _This_ was how she would lose her virginity. Not to some cute nerdy farmboy with amazing pecs. No romance. Only the smell of tasteful aftershave and the guilt lying like a stone in her stomach. This was her fault. She'd been so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Lionel pulled his cock almost all the way out of her wet cunt, then thrust in again.

Her breath caught in her throat. Pleasure was gathering inside her. Every thrust drove it further toward ecstasy. Chloe willed her body to stop, willed _him_ to stop, but it just kept going. _Stop,_ she mouthed at the streetlights on the wide road below. _Stop,_ as he pounded her cunt. _Stop,_ at the empty windows of the neighboring tower. _Stop,_ as her body shuddered and clenched around him. His hands on her hip pulled and pushed her as he slammed his cock into her again and again, fucking her careless of her comfort, like she was just a thing, a doll.

At last he came, with a groan, his long cock twitching deep inside her. She didn't move as he stepped away, staying braced, waiting for his OK. The office's central air blew lightly on her uncovered back and ass and cooled the spunk dripping down her thighs. His spunk. 

"Enjoying yourself, Miss Sullivan?"

She swayed against the window, fighting the urge to vomit. "Yes, Mr. Luthor," she whispered.

Lionel smiled down at her as she straightened up and pulled the hem of her dress down to cover her. The smudges her hands had left on the glass taunted her. _Here is where it happened,_ they told her. _That was you._

"Can I go now?" she murmured, almost below her breath.

"Of course. I'll have my driver take you home."

She didn't want to get in his car. She didn't want to put her trust in his driver. But it was an exit, and she would take it. She grabbed her purse from the couch and her panties from the coffee table and tottered on her too-tall sapphire-blue heels to the door.

As she pulled it open, Lionel cleared his throat. She froze.

"I'm glad we had this conversation, Miss Sullivan. I trust you will remember it?"

"Yes, Mr. Luthor," she whispered. She would remember.


End file.
